Encounters
by lovyles
Summary: Harvey meets a girl in a bar with what appears to be a severe case of Harvey-insensitivitis. Could she possibly be... not interested? Well, Harvey's interest is certainly piqued. Especially when it turns out there's more than meets the eye... Harvey's not the only one who likes to keep his private life private. Chapter six up!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, my first shot at Suits fanfiction. Keep in mind, English is not my native language, I don't live in the States and I have no beta, so there might be a few errors here and there. Hope you don't mind! **

**This takes place somewhere during season one, but it might not correspond completely to the situation in the series. I have most of it mapped out already, so if all goes well it should be - more than - a few pages long. On the other hand, you never know what Harvey might do, so I'll let his actions guide me as I write... :) I don't own Suits (I'm a girl), I do own Ana. Chuckie and a few other characters are borrowed from Oz. Don't know Oz? Shame on you. Go watch!**

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Harvey walked into the bar with a look of disapproval on his face. He almost stepped back out to check whether he was actually in the right place. It was... dingy, with the dark wooden bar that looked like it had been varnished a few times too often and the grubby shaded windows lining the length of the place. It looked like the kind of place where the seats were sticky and the tables were even stickier. A cautious touch of the nearest bar stool seemed to disprove his initial assessment, but he still wasn't about to sit his Armani suit down on one. He'd rather stand all night if he had to, even when he came straight out of the office.

He casually adjusted his vest as he looked around to find Mike sitting at the far end of the bar, big smile on his face and a drink in his hand. A fair blonde woman - attractive, though a bit young for his taste - sat next to him, practically glued to his lips. She looked up as Mike raised a hand and waved at Harvey to come over. Before her eyes met Harvey's, he made sure to replace his obvious look of discomfort with a patented confident Harvey-smile and walked up to her. He smoothly weaved around the bar guests, patting shoulders of a few familiar faces on his way over.

"Harvey Specter," he introduced himself smugly to the blonde as he reached her, shaking her hand firmly. No need for further introductions as she obviously recognized his name.

"Jenny Griffith," she replied softly while holding his look for a minute, visibly impressed. "I'm a... close friend of Mike's." She then cast her eyes down for a second before looking back up at Mike with a small smile. Harvey suggestively raised an eyebrow and grinned at Mike. The poor puppy looked uncomfortable for a moment watching the exchange unfold between him and Jenny.

Easy boy, I'm not going to steal your girlfriend, Harvey chuckled to himself. I'd rather seduce a woman my _own_ age. But still, it stroked his ego to think that Mike saw him as competition. The kid didn't look half bad himself - if he would lose the skinny tie and spend some decent money on his suits, he might actually become good competition. One day.

"Such an... _original venue_," he commented drily as he threw a theatrical look around, gesturing to the smudgy tables behind Mike, the bar with the brass taps and a number of associates scattered around the place in various levels of business attire. He smirked. "I'm sure you've selected this after a thorough investigation of the current most popular bars in the city?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Well - according to my indeed very thorough internet search, it appears that this bar not only offers the best service in the area - an average score of 8.7 with 304 reviewers isn't bad I would say - but also has a wide selection of drinks and long opening hours. All criteria which I believe most laywers would certainly appreciate, but most importantly criteria that I appreciate. And since it's my birthday..."

"Oh, we're getting a little presumptuous now, are we?" Harvey interrupted him, putting his hands in his pockets.

"N-no," Mike stuttered, shooting an uncertain look at Jenny. "It's just that I really liked this place. Plus," he argued as he put a finger up in the air, "It accommodates a good 50 people and still be spacious enough to feel comfortable. You know, considering that most people like to maintain a personal space around them of about one and a half feet. Plus, the music is never much above 60 decibels which means that you can carry on a conversation without needing to shout..."

"Wow there, Wikipedia," Harvey cut in. "We get the point. You're right. Your birthday, your choice." He winked at Jenny, who patted Mike on the back and chuckled. Mike visibly relaxed on his bar stool.

"Although..." Harvey continued as he shot an amused look over his shoulder, "I'm not quite sure what our connoisseur du venue Louis Litt will have to say about your choice of scenery... Do they serve champagne from the *region* here?" Mike almost burst into laughter but composed himself just in time as Louis located them at the bar. He visibly broadened his chest and saluted a little too enthusiastically at them, as he always did.

As Louis made his way over to the far end, awkardly bumping his thick-set frame into several people on his way over, Harvey slid a black unmarked envelope over the bar towards Mike. The outside betrayed nothing of its contents, but it looked severly out of place on the triple lacquered, battered wooden surface.

"Anyway, happy birthday, kid." Mike took the envelope, turned it around in his fingers once and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. How discrete. Maybe someday he would learn some manners after all, Harvey noticed appraisingly.

"Thanks, Harvey. Have a drink, they're on me," Mike gestured towards the bar.

"They better be," Harvey couldn't refrain from saying, unbuttoning his jacket and carefully laying one hand on the bar. It was surpiringly dry and non-sticky. But before Harvey could motion one of the bartenders to order a drink, Louis was already squeezing himself in front of Harvey to get to Mike.

"Mike, Mike, Mike," he tutted with outright disgust, looking around as if he had just been thrown into a dumpster. "What _is_ this place? It looks like a homeless shelter. And that _name_... so tacky." He shaked his head and rolled his eyes at Harvey.

You can always count on Louis to be a blunt, tactless asshole, Harvey thought as he mentally smacked him in the head. He saw Mike wincing slightly and trying to maintain a confident attitude. He actually felt sorry for the kid, although Harvey pretty much had the same reaction himself earlier. Why hadn't Mike just picked that new jazz lounge two blocks away from the office? Or the Centre Court Bar? Even the corporate restaurant would've been a better pick if Harvey was concerned. But damn it if he would let Louis know that.

"Haven't you heard about this place, Louis? Hmmm. Maybe your connections to hip and happening New York aren't what they used to be..." Harvey interjected smoothly before Mike could stutter another Wiki-filled reply. It was just enough to plant a seed of doubt and send Louis' thick eyebrows reaching for the heavens. Harvey simply raised an eyebrow of his own and confidently stepped past Louis to reach the bar again. Louis shot him an incredulous look and took another look around the dingy bar. You could practically see the wheels turning in there.

Seeing the bartender approach their end of the bar, Harvey used the moment to distract Louis' attention off Mike and gestured for her to come over. As always, his judgement was imminently ready. Probably twenty-nine, maybe thirty, auburn hair, tugged back into a practical ponytail. Delicate features and a light skin tone. Straight nose, little make up. A bit plain, but not necessarily ugly. Still a bit young maybe, but otherwise not bad. If it wasn't for the fact that she worked in a place where he wouldn't want to be found dead, and if she might had worn something with a little more shape and class to it...

'Yeah, as if that's kept you from hunting a woman down before, mr. Specter,' he playfully sneered to himself. 'Remember that waitress last year? Not a decent conversation in her, but her skills in bed... well...' But before he could let his mind drift off between the sheets of his kingsize satin-covered bed, Louis again made sure to draw all the attention to himself.

"Hi, honey," he said with a voice even lower than his already deep baritone. He had his right hand up at his face, casually leaning on the bar and showing his... ehm, quite large teeth in Louis' version of a toothpaste smile. Harvey shot him a skeptical sideway glance, still standing beside him at the bar. Oh no, Louis. You're _way_ out of your league here. He tried to keep himself from snickering too loudly as he subtly winked at Mike. Watching Louis make an ass of himself was always amusing.

"I'd like a round of your best Scotch," he continued in the same suave tone. You had to hand it to the guy, he really had the voice down. The girl though didn't seem that impressed.

"We have exactly one type of whiskey to offer, and it sure isn't Scottish, sir" she replied with a big smile. Louis' face fell for a moment. Harvey wasn't sure whether to laugh out loud at Louis or to be appalled. No Scotch? Well there Mike, seems like your little internet research lied to you. 'A wide selection of drinks... Great service...' Maybe he should ask Mike for his little black envelope back. He squinted at Mike, who squinted back and then smiled mysteriously.

"Excuse me?" Louis made a show of looking around him as if to check whether everybody was listening. Squinting, he had raised both of hands, fingers pointing at the unaffected bartender. "I don't think I heard you correctly. You might want to repeat yourself. Maybe it's all this pesky noise in here," he articulated every word. The toothpaste smile had gone.

"Hmmm, no, I think you heard me correctly the first time around, sir. We serve exactly one type of whiskey here. Tennessee whiskey, the best selling in the world. Although some might tend to classify it as a straight bourbon, though," she added pensively. "It's Daniel's. _Jack_ Daniel's. Sir." Did those last words have a slight British accent to them, or was Harvey mistaken?

He chuckled and got treated to a hateful look by Louis. She sounded a bit like Donna right there, Harvey mused. Maybe not so good for the clientèle, but a damn good show. And she at least appeared to remain polite during the whole of it. Not wanting to miss a minute of this, Harvey actually found himself sitting down on the empty stool behind him and leaning sideways against the bar. He loved a good show, especially when it was at Louis' expense.

"I could, however, offer you a wide variety of alternatives, if you're interested sir," the girl continued with an innocent smile before Louis could release the wrath that had to be building up inside of him on her. "What type of _Scotch_" - she emphasized the word - "do you usually like?" Not waiting for an answer, she marched on, "A little fruity, I think. Subtle yet complex. A hint of toffee, peaty, smokey. Probably an... Ardbeg," she contemplated, studying Louis's face as if sizing him up. "Twentynine years old, a little older maybe..."

Louis his jaw had dropped somewhere around Ardbeg. Even Harvey had to admit he was a little impressed. The girl certainly knew her whiskeys.

"_Unfortunately_, like I said we don't serve those in here. But you might want to try..." With a swift movement she reached under the bar, bringing up a bottle and an opener with one hand and a beautifully crafted glass with the other, "This. It's a Belgian beer, strong ale to be precise, and it has just a hint of cherry and caramel, with a peaty smokey note... Ah well, I guess you'll just have to taste it for yourself."

She finally paused for a moment, subtly swirling the bottle in the air, her head cocked to the side. Louis suddenly seemed at a loss for words, Harvey observed, intrigued by the exchange. The girl nodded, obviously content with her choice. As she dexterously opened the bottle and poured the beer out for a flabbergasted Louis, she nodded towards Mike and Jenny's empty glasses.

"Can I get you another one of those? Jenny, you might also like that Barbar I told you about last week. It's sweet and simple, with a ring of honey and citrus to it." So, she seemed to know Mike's girlfriend, Harvey made a mental note to himself. Interesting.

"Make it two, Ana," Mike said as he slid the two empty glasses towards the girl. "Sounds good, although that last one was excellent as well." The girl – Ana - nodded again. While carefully sliding the freshly poured beer towards Louis with one hand, she swiftly collected the empty ones with her other and then stopped to smile at Harvey.

"And you sir, what can I serve you?" she asked as she looked him straight in the eyes. He held her stare for a minute, waiting arrogantly for her to blink first or maybe to glance down coyly. She didn't. She so reminded him of Donna right there. *Just* before it got awkward, he answered.

"Well, as you seem to have no problem taking an educated guess with your customers, I think I'll let myself be surprised," he said, smiling his radiant Harvey-smile and leaning back on his seat. "I assume it'll be beer, though?"

"Sir, didn't you read the sign?" the girl replied innocently, looking up to the right as she continued to face him. Harvey turned around on his stool to find a large aluminium sign hanging on the wall above the shaded windows reading 'The Big Apple Inn - Beer Café'. Ugh. Louis was right. It _was_ tacky.

As he turned back around to comment, Ana had already moved back to the middle of the bar. There she poured two beers for Mike and Jenny and proceeding to select a dark bottle with a long, elegant neck. At the cabinet behind her she reached for a matching tall glass that looked like a chalice in a strange wooden holder. Standing on her tiptoes, the small of her back showed a little below her loose blue blouse. Creamy, flawless skin - and a lot more delicate than Harvey had anticipated. He continued to observe her as she skilfully tapped a few draft beers for the regulars, cleaned up the bar and consulted with what appeared to be her boss.

Louis in the mean time had taken a very careful sip from his beer and was now elaborately sloshing the liquid around in his mouth. As he drew in a breath between his teeth, producing an awful hissing and gurgling sound, Harvey cringed.

"Louis," he commented horrified. "I don't think you're meant to taste this beer as if it's a twenty year old cabernet. Just… swallow."

The girl had returned and although she hid it well, Harvey noticed the momentary look of identical aversion on her face. She obviously thought the same of these types of 'connoisseurs' – or people posing as connoisseurs, as Louis might sometimes be more correctly classified.

"This is excellent, although maybe a little too fruity for me," Louis announced his verdict with a little twitch of the mouth, obviously trying to save face.

"Great! I´m glad you like it," she replied politely, turning to Harvey after handing Mike and Jenny their frosted mugs.

"I think _you_ sir might like this one. It's called Kwak, and it's also a Belgian strong ale. The official description reads 'full-bodied, slightly sweet, seductive malt character – a satifying experience' if I quoted that correctly off the top of my head." She again cocked her head as she held up the bottle for him to study. Her expression was completely neutral, but the undertone was unmistakable to Harvey. The question was, would he bite?

Harvey could hear Mike chuckle a few feet away from him. Louis was shooting jealous and disdainful looks between him and the girl.

"Harvey Specter, seductive and _very_ satifying" he said with a smirk as he extended his hand across the bar, ignoring both Mike and Louis completely. "I think your guess is right on the money there. Impressive."

"Ana Lee," the girl replied shaking his hand briefly, her face still showing no significant emotion except for a professional smile. She started to pour out the beer. "I'd like to think that after ten years of serving my customers the finest beers available in the City, I'd know a thing or two about what drinks match with which personality. Enjoy your beer, mister Specter."

And with that introduction, she turned around to go serve a bulky looking businessman with a bad moustache at the other end of the bar. Harvey shook his head to himself as he turned the glass in its peculiar wooden holder. Amusing…

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**Reviews are greatly appreciated of course!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for the reviews, follows & favs! Glad to see my English isn't so bad that no one can understand it... :) This piece continues with the events of the evening. Also, I'm still working on my dialogue writing skills. I find it quite challenging to capture the witty nature of conversations between Harvey and Louis or Donna, but I'm trying. Please let me know what you think!**

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For the rest of the evening, with each new beer to taste, Louis' attempts to secure the girl's attention grew more desperate and more awkward.

Harvey actually admired how calm, polite and friendly she remained throughout all of it. She had also decidedly kept addressing Louis as 'sir', even when he had tried to imitate Harvey's smooth introduction.

In Louis' case however, 'smooth' meant hanging over the bar - effectively ruining his jacket with beer stains - while extending his hand and almost knocking over Harvey's beer. In the process he'd accidentally - or purposely, who could tell – brushed his hand against the woman's breast. She completely ignored it and proceeded to clean up glasses and take an order from a stuttering ginger kid who looked like he was barely of legal drinking age – Harold, was it?

More _surprisingly_, Harvey hadn't had much luck with her either. There had been some bits and pieces of conversation between them that could've classified as flirting, were it not for the composed look on Ana's face and her strictly professional demeanor. His compliments and playful hints seemed to stick for only a second before gliding off of her like melting snow.

Although Harvey always loved a classic play of 'hard to get', this seemed to be a rare case of Harvey-insensitivitis. That was unusual.

Maybe she was simply taken. That could explain the way her boss looked longingly at her when he obviously thought no one was paying attention to him. She didn't seem to return the favor. Or maybe they had been together for ages? Either option clearly meant she was obviously off limits. But after nonchalantly studying her for another ten minutes he decided against it. He couldn't observe anything other than friendly banter and touches at arm length between her and the guy. He should try to find a subtle way to ask Mike's girlfriend.

For the fifth time this evening, he sighed to himself. Not out loud, of course. He kept on smiling confidently, trying to look interested while he listened to another fact-filled anecdote Mike was telling. The kid was starting to ramble – even more than usual.

Damnit, why did Donna have to have a date precisely tonight? He missed her sharp eye and clever suggestions right now. Subtle observations whispered into his ear, meaningful looks, ridiculing Louis… He loved her for it. Not that he would ever admit that to her face. He'd rather eat his Armani boxers and dance the hulu.

But before he could take either decide to leave or take further action on the girl, Jessica had popped in. That was surprising. Even more to his amazement, she had displayed a fascinating knowledge of beer. Of course, the _real_ reason she had decided to grace a mere associate with a visit to his birthday party, was that she'd wanted to discuss a few details of that pesky Benson merger with him.

Even so, she had still made the effort brought Mike a present; a silver tie-pin which Harvey thought he recognized from last year's Christmas gifts for the firm's more low-end clients. He mentally made a note to ask her later. Maybe there were more left for him to give away at some point. Never a bad thing to have some small bribes handy…

Subsequently, Mike had picked up the bill – wincing when he took in the total and then reaching for his credit card with a sigh – and left with his girlfriend. They were on the border of being drunk and obviously in love. She was wearing his tie, with the tie-pin attached to it. Puppy love, Harvey smiled as he watched them stagger out, laughing and kissing. Then: I sound like my father. Ouch. He quickly took another swig of his 'full-bodied, slightly sweet, seductive' beer.

So at half past two in the morning, even after most of the associates and the bar owner had already gone, Harvey had kept hanging around, to his own surprise actually.

Maybe it was the beer, which was – as the reviews had rightly claimed – one of the best and widest selections he'd ever seen. Maybe it was the service; a fresh beer and a fresh glass being available as soon as he'd finished the previous one. Or the music, which – as there were fewer guests to disturb it now - turned out to be an excellent mix of instrumental jazz and blues.

But if he was honest, Harvey contemplated as the cumulated alcohol of five (or was it six?) heavy beers started to take effect - it was his ego, not willing to accept defeat. He would get the girl. It was now no longer a simple matter of mild attraction, of an easy lay - he was proving something to himself. What Harvey wants, Harvey gets.

Unfortunately, of the very few people still populating the bar, Louis was also one of them. Although Harvey felt absolutely no desire to associate himself with the severely intoxicated junior partner at this point, he also couldn't leave the man crawling out of the bar and ending up who knows where. Especially when they both had that annoying merger waiting on Monday morning.

Before hoisting Louis off his bar stool and dumping him into the nearest cab, Harvey decided to give it one last shot. As she registered his subtle nod, the girl said goodbye to one of the regulars and came over with an inquiring look.

"Can I get you another beer, mr. Specter? Last call," she said with a smile. Even after hours of continuous service behind the bar, she still sounded fresh. A good quality in a bartender, Harvey remarked appreciatively. And certainly a good quality for a midnight encounter in his bed…

"I'd rather you get me your number." He decided for the direct approach, albeit with a mischievous smile.

"That info is all to be found on our business cards. You can take one from the jar at the door if you want," she answered innocently, pointing at the entrance of the bar. Did he just see a slight sparkle in her eyes?

"I'll make sure to take one," Harvey replied equally as innocent. "But just to make sure I never order a bad whiskey anywhere again, could I maybe also have your personal number? For some… *one on one counseling*, maybe?"

The sparkle was now definitely there. Her grey-green eyes widened just before she cast her eyes down. The warm familiar feeling of victory spread across Harvey's stomach. His smile widened.

"What makes you think I'd be interested in expanding my services beyond this bar, mr. Specter?" she replied suddenly, looking back up. Before he could formulate a witty reply, she continued, "And to cut to the chase - what makes you think I'm not married?"

Harvey's eyes shot down to her hands, resting comfortably on the bar in front of her. There was no ring. He frowned.

Following his eyes, she looked at her hands and wriggled her fingers. Then she bent over to him and whispered, "Just because a girl doesn't wear a ring, doesn't mean she's not married."

Baffled for a moment, Harvey stood up from his seat and buttoned his jacket, buying him some time. He noticed a slight waver in his balance. Damn you, alcohol. At the same time, Louis was also attempting to get up from his slumped position in the corner and after one failed lift-off stumbled right into Harvey's arms.

"Harveyharveyharvey, you unim- unimagin- you _jerk_," he slurred as he shot the bartender an exaggerated apologetic look on behalf or Harvey with red, watery eyes. "The girl's _married_" -he dragged the word out for a few seconds- "And you don't _do_ married women, do you?" He started to snicker, then moved on to laugh uncontrollably, ending in hiccups and coughs.

Intensely disgusted, Harvey tried to haul Louis to his feet and simultaneously search for his credit card. Still sniffing and snorting, Louis started theatrically patting his pockets and muttered something about leaving his wallet at home.

"Louis, stop it," Harvey snapped at him. Louis peered at him, squinting, trying to formulate a coherent reply.

"My apologies for my… _this_," he said as he gestured at Louis with unconcealed abhorrence. "Here you go. For both of us, please" he continued on the same breath towards the girl as he handed her his credit card.

As she swiftly made the transaction for both of them, Harvey had no choice but to support Louis to keep him from falling to his knees. Any doubt that this might be an act to make Harvey look ridiculous was now gone. He'd never seen Louis this drunk before. Not even at last year's Christmas party at the firm, where the champagne – from the _region_ of course – and whiskey always flowed richly.

"There you go," the girl said to Harvey as she handed back the card. "Thank you so much for visiting the Big Apple Inn tonight. We… My boss, Ryan, really appreciated that. Great guests, great atmosphere. And I've never seen so many quality suits together in this bar in years!" she chuckled. There it was again, that sparkle.

Harvey smiled and nodded politely. He was done. All he wanted to do now was to get this embarrassment of a man into a cab, catch another one himself and go home to an excellent glass of whiskey and some good old Sinatra.

Maybe he could call Marissa, a small voice suggested in the back of his head. Hmmm, maybe he should. She would be just about be done clubbing by now. He perked up just by thinking about the woman's gorgeous red lips, her skilled hands, a body that still looked like that of a twenty year old…

Outside the bar, they had to wait an excruciating ten minutes for a cab to pass them by. All the while, Louis was blurting incoherent and insulting things about Ana the bartender and Harvey's ridiculous principles. Screwing half the city of New York, but behold – one ring and he was powerless. He then proceeded to quote almost the entire first sequence of Lord of the Rings, exclaiming "One ring to rule them all!" across the street and then at the heavily annoyed cab driver.

The street was suddenly quiet when Louis and the cab had finally left. Louis grinned triumphantly at Harvey as he waved from behind the car window, holding a handful of dollars he had reluctantly given Louis when it appeared that he had no cash on him at all.

Reckoning that he was probably more likely to catch a cab a few streets down the block, Harvey started to round the corner of bar in a slow pace. The alcohol certainly had an effect on him, although he could generally hide it well. Maybe a brisk walk in the chilly night air would freshen him up a bit as well.

He started dialing Marissa's number when from the corner of his eye, he noticed movement in a dark parking lot on his left. It was situated at the back of the bar, containing just a few vehicles and a large dumpster.

"No, Chuckie, don't," a familiar female voice exclaimed. "Please, stop. _Stop it_!"

Harvey's eyes shot further to the left to find the small frame of a woman and a _huge _man standing in the shadows next to the dumpster. He was looming over her and appeared to be punching her in the gut. The woman squealed again. It was Ana.

Without a moment's thought, Harvey cut the call and ran over to the scene. Could he knock the guy out? By the size of him, probably not. As he got closer, he reassessed. _Definitely_ not. But Harvey Specter sure as hell wouldn't let a woman go down like that alone.

"Hey, big guy, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" he yelled as he came to a wobbling halt close to the dumpster. Great line, Harvey. Real smooth with the clichés. And not entirely accurate, since the guy was about three times his size - at least in terms of width.

As the guy stepped out of the shadows, Harvey noticed he looked like a boxing pro. Lots of muscles. He swallowed hard.

"Mr. Specter," Ana said as she stepped out of the shadows of the dumpster as well. "It's not what think it is."

Harvey raised an eyebrow and tried to steady himself, trying to look as confident as ever. Damn that last beer. His hands automatically reached for the buttons of his jacket, then his cuffs. Force of habit.

"Really," he said, narrowing his eyes, not sure whether to be relieved or skeptical.

"Chuckie here" –the girl gestured towards the muscular man who was clearly sizing him up- "is ehm… what you might call… my bouncer. Didn't you see him sitting inside the bar? He always makes sure I can lock the place up safely out here." She gestured towards the dark deserted parking lot.

"Chuckie Pancamo," the guy introduced himself with a heavy accent. He sounded like an Italian mobster. He reached out an enormous hand, which Harvey shook only after shooting him another suspicious look. Then he looked back at Ana. Was she telling the truth, or was she just scared out of her mind? The alcohol seemed to really cloud his usually impeccable judgment.

"Chuckie was just showing me some boxing moves. You know, for self-defense. But I'm kind of ticklish." She was smiling brightly now. If she was feeling threatened, she hid it really well.

"Boxing, huh," Harvey answered smartly. "I could teach you a thing or two about that, and it wouldn't have to be in a dark deserted parking lot."

"Wow, easy there partner," Chuckie interrupted him with an protective edge to his voice.

"Is this fella' okay, Ana? Do you know him?" He was still eyeing Harvey and took a step closer to the girl. Harvey cleared his throat, feeling offended and a little uncomfortable. Here he was, knight in shining armor trying to save a damsel in distress, only to find out that *he* was now considered to be the evil dragon coming for the princess.

"Yeah, he's fine, Chuckie. His name is Harvey Specter. He's… what was it again?" –she furrowed her brow and then smiled remembering- "'the best damn closer this city has ever seen'?"

She laid a reassuring hand on the boxer's chest. "I don't think a man of his *stature* will knock me down and drag me to his lair to be raped and murdered."

"Thanks for the compliment," Harvey muttered under his breath, staring up at the night sky. They didn't seem to notice.

"Well, you never know, honey. You seen that movie 'American Psycho'?" Chuckie snorted. Ana laughed heartily and gave the man a gentle push.

"Go on big guy, we're done here. Julia's waiting for you. Thanks for your help, as always!" After one last look at Ana and Harvey, Chuckie saluted casually and walked away, hands in his pockets.

"Bouncer, huh? Good choice," Harvey commented drily as soon as the man was out of earshot.

"Yeah, he's a gem. One of a kind. Always stands by me when I need to close up alone," Ana said warmly, not reacting to Harvey's tone.

"So, off to the husband, then?" he inquired casually. "Where you headed? Maybe we can share a cab. Safer and cheaper," he added stiffly.

'Why did you just say that, Harvey?' he mentally berated himself. You were going to call Marissa. And the girl's taken. And *Marissa*.

"No, I'm going to a club," she said to his surprise while stepping back and reaching behind the dumpster. "Meet some friends. Dance some of the energy out, you know."

"No, actually I don't know. At this time of night?" Harvey asked incredulously while checking his watch. "Half past three?"

"Yes," Ana replied as she uprighted herself and cocked her head. "Anything wrong with that?"

"No, not at all," he said, raising his hands in mock apology.

"Well, good night then, mr. Specter," she said with a smile, slipping a black helmet over her head. Wow, where did that suddenly come from? The girl walked swiftly towards a black motorbike parked at the other side of the dumpster. She got on, unlocked it and maneuvered it out of its parking space. As she started the engine, she waved at him and then shot off the lot, leaving Harvey dumbfounded.

He shook his head in amused disbelief as he put his hands in his pockets and started to saunter away. "Good night, mrs. Lee."

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**Well, Harvey doesn't sleep with married women, so that should be that. Right...?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Took me a few days, but here's chapter three. This piece is bridging the time until the next encounter, so you're in for some office fun this time. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated of course.**

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"Two hundred and forty-two," Harvey said to the back of Louis' head as he passed him in the hallway.

"Wait-what?" Louis stammered as he did a double-take.

Harvey smirked to himself, making sure junior didn't see. Nothing like catching the guy off-guard first thing in the morning. Behind his back, Louis hastily handed Harold the enormous stack of folders he was carrying, almost tipping the boy over.

He quickly trailed Harvey down the hall, trying to catch up with his efficient pace. "Two hundred and forty-two _what_, exactly? Harvey?"

"Good morning, Donna. Thank you," Harvey said serenely as his assistant handed him his coffee and a few printouts with post-its stuck to it. Completely ignoring his confused stalker, she started to sum up the tasks for the day. Harvey took it all in while calmly settling behind his desk.

"…and then there's the meeting with Mrs. Doubtfire at four," Donna finished, still not acknowledging the junior partner who was now trailing them into his office.

Harvey could hear him sigh and decided to keep him hanging just a little longer. For the fun of it.

"I guess I will just go stand over here and see which records I can use to even out my desk. It's been… kind of wobbly lately," Louis mumbled with just enough volume for Harvey to hear. He took an exaggerated step towards the rows and rows of vinyl, checking to see if Harvey would stop him.

"Mrs. Doubtfire?" Harvey asked Donna instead, raising his eyebrows. She had now started to eye Louis with just a hint of aggression, but Harvey subtly signaled for her to leave it alone. If annoying Louis meant a greasy finger or two on his record covers, so be it. They all had to make sacrifices sometimes. He would have Donna arrange for the covers to be cleaned later if necessary.

"Hmmm… Elvis Presley right next to the New Seekers? That's odd."

Harvey's toes started to curl. Donna put on her most innocent look.

"John Howard. Of Klineman & Sons? He reminds me of Mrs. Doubtfire. With the grey hair, the granny clothes, squeaky voice… Not to mention the old lady smell," she recounted, wrinkling her nose.

"Thanks for that… striking comparison, Donna. Now I'll be thinking about Robin Williams in drag for the whole of that meeting," Harvey chided her jokingly. His assistant made a mock bow.

"Wow - you have the complete King Cole Trio collection?" Louis now commented innocently, turning a stack of four records over in his hands. Okay, _now_ he was crossing the line. Donna raised her hands in innocence as if to say: 'You told me not to do anything about it,' as she turned her back on them both and marched out of the office.

"Two hundred and forty-two_ dollars_ - and a business card, Louis. It's what you owe me after your humiliating, yet _very_ amusing exit Friday night," Harvey replied icily, sorting through the printouts Donna had handed him. "And _don't_ touch the vinyl."

After a moment's pause, Harvey continued pensively, "You know, Donna has really been into James Bond lately. Remember Goldfinger, with that guy Oddjob? The henchman - Japanese guy? He had a real talent for decapitating people with his hat."

He dialed his voice down to a mock whisper. "I caught Donna late last Thursday night, practicing throws with some of my broken Dylan records. Very impressive. I think I saw Harold almost losing his head there. She should have tried out for the women's Olympic discus throwing team."

Louis raised his eyebrows for a moment and threw a quick look over his shoulder to Donna's desk, before straightening his composure.

"Or maybe she should join the men's team…" Harvey continued, pondering to himself.

"So… your Dylan records are broken?" Louis retorted innocently, but he still put the records back. On the wrong shelf. Harvey sighed. "Can I have them?"

"Not to fix your desk, you're not," he grunted. And before the junior partner could continue, "Nor to show them to your wife or to secretly fondle them in bed." Louis huffed.

"I told you, I don't _have_ a-" Louis started but then caught himself, "Look, let's cut the crap. We can do this all day and I don't know about you, but _I've_ got work to do. Like, the Benson merger? Might sound familiar? Besides, the whole ignoring charade is really getting old."

"You don't remember, do you?" Harvey asked in a humorous tone.

"I remember drinking awful beers in that grubby place they call a '_beer café_'. Then there was you trying - and might I add _failing_ miserably - to seduce the bartender-"

"-and then I had to drag your drunk ass out of the bar, almost watch you throw up into the gutter, listen to a very badly done impersonation of Gollem and Gandalf, hand you forty-two dollars and the business card I took from the bar and throw you headfirst into the only cab passing by at that hour, incidentally causing myself to have to walk two blocks to the nearest street still populated by people at that time of night and therefore increasing my chances of catching a cab," Harvey finished.

Louis shoved his hands in pockets, consecutively looking at the record cabinet, this feet, then outside past Harvey – avoiding his eyes. His upper lip was raised in irritation.

"But you said _two hundred_ and forty-two dollars," he finally refuted in a childish tone.

"That's for the dry-cleaning I'll be needing since you ruined my suit - clamping on to me because you couldn't keep yourself up," Harvey replied smoothly.

"I- That's- _You_-"

"Yes, Louis?" Harvey inquired innocently. The man cut himself off and grunted.

"You know what?" Louis held up his hands and took a step back. "I'll be the bigger man here and let this go. You'll get my check this afternoon. Right now, we need to discuss the Benson merger. Conference room, in five minutes," Louis said stiffly as he turned and walked away.

As soon as Louis had walked out of earshot, Donna trotted back into the office with big curious eyes.

"So, what's her name," she asked as she sat down on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs.

"It's Louis," Harvey answered, marking some text on a document and then looking up at Donna with a smirk. "I think that's a really unusual name for a woman, don't you?"

"She must've made an impression on you." Determined as always, Donna couldn't be distracted from her goal.

"And why is that?" Confirming nor denying, always a safe way to go, although he knew that with Donna, that wasn't really getting him anywhere. But he loved to stay and play. Especially with Louis and that annoying merger waiting for him.

"Well, beside what I just heard go down between you and baldy over there…" She nodded backwards. "There's the fact that you stayed at a dingy bar drinking beer – _beer? really?_ - until closing time. Then there's the fact that you not only stayed 'till the lights went out, but you stayed while Louis was apparently still there as well. Not to _mention_ the fact that he was so drunk and needy you actually lend him _money_. Was there a gun involved?"

"What makes you say the place was dingy? Are you… are you _following_ me?" Harvey asked with a mocking suspicious frown.

"Unlike you, Harvey, I regularly go onto this incredible new Internet website thing called 'Google' and you know what – it helps you _find all kinds of stuff_," Donna ended in a conspiratory whisper.

"Give it a few years, and I reckon they'll be making a _lot_ of money." She widened her eyes and nodded meaningfully.

He rolled his eyes at her and continued to mark the next document in the brown folder.

"But, I wasn't finished yet. There's also this pimpish dark blue Tom Ford suit" -she leaned over and fondled his sleeve for a moment- "you only wear when you're feeling incredibly intrigued and thrown off by something ánd the fact that you never take business cards from any bar. Ever." Donna ended her argument triumphantly.

"Pimpish?" was all he repeated. "Tom? _Pimpish?_" How dare she.

"I'll find out about her one way or the other, Harvey," Donna commented loudly as she walked back to her desk. And then over the intercom: "I _did _try out for the Olympic team, by the way. They said I was too good. Would make the other men look bad."

He chuckled, then finished marking the documents. He stood up and walked towards the windows facing over Manhattan in the early morning, hands in his pockets. After throwing a quick look over his shoulder, he inconspicuously tried to study his reflection in the glass surface. Pimpish? Really?


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for the encouragement! I loved writing the** **previous chapter, but now it's back to the bar and trying to figure out who Ana really is. I got the feeling there's more to her than just bartending... And somehow she doesn't really strike me as the marrying type. Hmmm? Maybe there's something in it for Harvey after all?**

* * *

It was just convenient, he told himself again as he stood in front of the building. The restaurant had only been a few blocks away. Not even a five minute drive.

Keeping up a conversation with Nichols had been boring, not to mention mentally draining. The guy just wouldn't shut up about finances, stocks, assets and liabilities… And there really wasn't anything in there for them, not immediately, anyway. _Financial networking_. That was Louis' department, not his.

Maybe, Harvey grinned to himself, he should charge Louis with another dry-cleaning bill on Monday. Just for the fact that he had almost fallen asleep halfway through dinner and might have accidentally drooled on his jacket. Of course, the bill would come in addition to the VIP baseball tickets the junior partner had already arranged for him as a bribe.

So… what he needed right now was to mentally kick back and relax for a bit. And the bar was just the closest place available. That was all. Harvey studiously tried to ignore the fact that his loyal driver was currently sitting in the car in the dark parking lot behind the bar, waiting patiently to drive him home whenever he pleased.

As he peered inside and spotted the male bartender, he recalled their brief conversation earlier that week.

"O'Reilly, Big Apple Inn," a smooth voice had sounded on the other end of the line.

"Good evening sir. Is Mrs. Lee in today?" he had asked, staring pensively at the bar's website in front of him.

"Mrs. Lee?" The voice had hesitated for a moment. The soft sound of jazz music, mixed with the murmur of voices and clinking of glasses, sounded in the background. "Oh, you mean _Ana_? No, she only works Fridays and Saturdays. Maybe I can help? Can I take a message for her?"

"No, thank you. I'll try to contact her on her cell," he'd replied smoothly, as if he spoke to her every day. "Good night." If she only worked weekends, then what was she doing for the rest of the week? Another thing to keep his mind occupied in between board meetings, court hearings, depositions and Mike's secret but very obvious swooning over that blonde Jenny.

So here he was again, on a Friday night, a week from their first encounter. And as much he told himself he had wound up here by accident, that he just needed a drink and some good music, there was still this nagging voice inside his head. Sometimes, he mused, it almost sounded like Donna.

'You don't care about _beer_.' Snort. 'Harvey Specter drinking beer _voluntarily_?' Another snort, followed by much mental eye-rolling. 'It's _her_. Just admit it.'

Well, if he was truly honest with himself, he actually felt kind of stupid standing here. It was juvenile. He shook his head to himself, almost smiling. Who would've thought that – the great Harvey Specter standing outside a bar, like a boy waiting nervously outside the house of his prom date. Although he wasn't really nervous, of course. Harvey was _never_ nervous. He couldn't afford to be. But still, this had a strange feel to it. This wasn't what he normally did.

He'd had dozens of women play him before. They acted cool, seemingly not reacting to his insinuations. Snappy answers, witty replies, looks the other way, threats to knee him in his delicates - he'd heard it all. But when it came to it, hard to get was never _really_ that hard to get. And if they really weren't interested – which occurred only rarely – he lost interest pretty soon as well. Plenty more fish in the sea. Harvey liked his clichés for a reason: they were true.

So, what made it different this time?

Her name, her face, her voice had been milling around in his head all week. Their conversation, her reactions… He had been going over them again and again. There was something that didn't add up. And when Harvey had that gut feeling, he was usually right.

He quickly checked left and right before entering the bar. It was almost as if he was going to make some shady deal, he snickered to himself. Or it might be just that he was half expecting Donna to lie in wait somewhere, trying to catch him red-handed. She would, you know. Complete with ski mask and binoculars.

She had been grilling him about 'the mystery woman' all week. And about the 'pimpish' suit, which Harvey still mildly resented her for. Would it not have been for Louis suddenly being tied up in complications involving the Benson merger (which had required him to fly over to Chicago), she would've known all the juicy details by now. She would've squeezed him like an orange. And then Harvey would've probably forced her to wear the Tom Ford suit herself and rap along to 'P.I.M.P.' in front of the entire office. He smirked at the mental picture. She would probably pull it off, though. She was Donna.

A car honking as it passed brought him back to reality. He drew a deep breath, checked his cuffs, put on his confident, relaxed smile and opened the door.

Yep, it still looked dingy. Nothing changed there. The smell was still a bit stale, the same regulars sitting at the bar. The music was still good, volume set low as there weren't too many customers around yet. Behind the bar stood a tall, slick-looking guy with spiked hair and a green hoodie reading 'IRELAND' in capitals across the front. Ryan O´Reilly, the owner. But no Ana.

While subtly surveying the bar, trying to find her maybe clearing the few tables the bar contained, Harvey suddenly spotted a huge muscular guy sitting quietly at the far end of the bar, sipping a drink.

"Mr. Pancamo," Harvey approached him with a confident smile, extending a hand. The man took it with a slightly skeptical, but friendly look on his face.

"Mr. Specter, what a surprise," he replied in his heavy New York mobster accent as he almost crushed Harvey's hand. "Didn't think I'd see you and your fancy suit around here again. It's not exactly the place to be for a hotshot lawyer, ya know." He gestured around him.

"What can I say – I guess I like the atmosphere," Harvey replied smoothly as he subtly withdrew his hand from the enormous bank screw it was in. He had a feeling it wouldn't go down to well with Chuckie if he told him he was here – at least partly – for the girl tapping the beers.

"Nah, you're just here for the beer," the guy laughed and winked. He bent over slightly and whispered, "Me too, ya know. Nowhere better."

He paused for a second and finally said earnestly, "Know what, call me Chuckie."

"Harvey," Harvey replied, giving him a small nod and smile. He debated for a moment whether to continue what he was about to say.

"Listen, I think we got off to a bit of a bad start last week. I just saw this huge guy and a girl in a dark deserted parking lot… And I drew the wrong conclusion. I'm glad you keep an eye out for her."

"Yeah, well, it's all good. It's good that you look out for her as well. She's one of the good ones, you know?" Chuckie smiled warmly as he shrugged. "She helped me out in the past, now I'm helping her out. Besides, I get free booze. What more could I want?" He chuckled as he raised his glass and playfully punched Harvey against the shoulder. Harvey in turn tried to keep a straight face as the punch landed. Ouch. He reminded himself again not to get on this guy's wrong side.

"Easy there, Chuck," a humored voice sounded from behind the bar. Harvey turned around to find Ana standing there, just putting down a crate of assorted beer bottles. She had the same shapeless outfit on; bar attire.

She looked exactly as her remembered her. He was strangely relieved to conclude that he still didn't really find her stunningly beautiful. Not in a classical sense, anyway. But there definitely was something elegant about her. Simple, straight-up.

"He competed in the NY Golden Gloves tournament last year," Ana explained proudly, and then turned to Chuckie, "A friendly punch from you is a guarantee for painful bruises the next day, Chuck. Trust me, I _know_. I'm sure Mr. Specter here would like to be able to sit up straight behind his desk on Monday morning." Chuckie rolled his eyes at her and took another sip.

Before Harvey could formulate a witty response, she disappeared under the bar, followed by the sounded of bottles clinking together. A few moments later she walked away with an empty crate in her hands and disappeared through a door at the back.

"So, the Golden Gloves, huh?" Harvey said as he raised an eyebrow at Chuckie. "You're a pro?"

"Not really," the guy replied with a shrug, trying to be modest. "I mainly work in construction, but I try to compete when and where I can. Why, you a fan?" he grinned.

"Actually… I'm more of a baseball fan myself - when it comes to watching," he answered truthfully. "But I do try to train at the gym once or twice a week. You know, bit of sparring, throwing in a punch here and there." Chuckie nodded appreciatively.

"Wait - I thought lawyers worked eighty hour weeks, at least?" Ana playfully interjected, having returned with another full crate of bottles. "If you spend all your remaining time at the gym, when do you eat? Or sleep for that matter?"

"Mrs. Lee, sleep is overrated," Harvey replied humorously to her head disappearing below the bar once again. "And it's actually much closer to a hundred hours when you're the best…"

"…closer in New York City," she finished his sentence with a smile as she came back up. "Yeah, you claimed that last week as well. What about that? I was wondering… what is a _closer_? Someone who closes deals, I presume? Because when it comes to that, I would like to argue that I close a lot more deals in one busy night here at the bar than you probably do in a month. Wouldn't that arguably make _me_ the best closer in town?" She smiled triumphantly.

"Well, my profession as an attorney of law - and coincidentally as a senior partner at my firm - encompasses just a _little_ more than simply _closing deals_, as you may call it," Harvey replied with mock disdain and just a hint of true pain. He wasn't about to have his position compromised by a bartender - not even jokingly. He'd worked hard enough for it.

On the other hand, she did have a point, he mentally added. "But I guess when it comes to closing deals in the broadest sense of the word, you've just made a good argument there."

"Then, Your Honor," she replied with a satisfied grin as she made an elegant curtsey at Chuckie, "I rest my case. So, can I get you two a drink to celebrate my first victory in catering industry law?"

Chuckie just handed her his empty glass with a nod as he announced he was going to take a leak. He disappeared at the back of the room.

"I would certainly like to explore the option one of those seductive beers you so expertly advised me last week, counselor," Harvey in turn answered with a straight face, going along with the metaphor.

"One beer comin' up for the hardworking man in the expensive suit," Ana called over her shoulder as she walked along the bar and gathered the glasses and bottles needed to service him and Chuckie. Upon her return, Harvey tried to keep her talking for another moment, spotting Ryan taking care of some other waiting customers down the other end of the bar.

"So, I assume you're not working hundred hour work weeks, then?" he picked up where they left off.

"No, I value my meals _and_ my sleep way too much, Mr. Specter. So no hundred hours of mind-numbing office slavery for me, no. Not as a rule, anyway," she answered as poured him his beer. "But I must admit it does happen every once in a while." Harvey raised an eyebrow, interested.

"I didn't know bartending was such a demanding job," Harvey smirked after he took a sip from his glass. He already knew she only worked here for two nights, so this was the time to extract some more information out of her. He teased, "So the bar's open all day, all night?"

"No," Ana replied without skipping a beat, puckering her lips. "This job I keep only for the fun of it. During the daytime, this beer-tapping deal-closing superhero turns into a plain website developer working a plain nine to five job. Well, like I said, _mostly_ nine to five," she added after a moment's thought.

"A… web developer, huh?" Harvey repeated pensively. This girl was full of surprises. The bartending, the motorcycle, now websites. "So I guess it's safe to say you're somewhat of a nerd?" He smirked.

"As in being a proud member of Mensa, locking myself up in my room at night programming a new MMORPG while drinking three gallons of coke and energy drink, dressing up as Princess Leia, participating in live action role playing games in the woods and wearing t-shirts with 'Live long and prosper' printed on them in Klingon? No," she replied on one breath.

Okay, so she got asked that question a lot, he mentally kicked himself. Not a good move, Harvey.

"But yes, I do know a thing or two about sql, php, perl, java, ActionScript, .NET, C++ and so forth," she continued smoothly. She threw him a sweet smile and started polishing some glasses. Ouch, he'd definitely hit a nerve.

"Okay, okay, I´m sorry - didn't mean to step on any toes," Harvey chuckled softly as he held up his hands in defense. "So, you're a _professional_ nerd. Can I call it like that?" The girl shrugged and nodded, more sincerely this time.

"So, are you freelancing, or…?" he inquired.

"No, I work with a bunch of guys in an office." And before Harvey could say anything else, "-and no, we don't need any legal representation, Mr. Specter, if that's what you were going to ask." Said with the same smile still in place, but Harvey could see he was losing her interest. From the corner of his eye, Harvey could see the bar owner eyeing his employee and her inquisitor with some concern. Ana noticed as well.

"Would you please excuse me?" With those words and a small nod, she turned around and disappeared to the other end of the bar, leaving Harvey with Chuckie who had returned shortly before.

"She gets feisty like that sometimes," Chuckie commented drily from the corner of his mouth. He shook his head and grinned to himself. "She's confident and she definitely keeps things to herself. But… I guess that got her where she is now."

"Which is…?" Harvey inquired, taking a sip from his beer. Hmmm, still as good as last time.

"Oh _no_ - it's up to _Ana_ to tell you more about her life," Chuckie said after draining his beer in three gulps. "Might take you a while, though. Took me about a year."

Harvey threw a long hard look at the girl's back. Now he was even more intrigued. Shit. He definitely had to wear the Tom Ford suit again next week.


	5. Chapter 5

**As with chapters one and two, this one is also a continuation of the night in progress in chapter four. Please keep in mind that English isn't my native language and that I don't have a beta. I'm happy to correct any major errors pointed out to me! Do let me know if you think Harvey should go to Chicago or let Louis fix things on his own. Does our little princess need saving? **

* * *

While Harvey was still ruminating about the mystery that was Ana - who was currently tapping twenty beers in rapid succession for a bachelor party which had just entered - Chuckie tried to strike up another conversation about sports.

Much to Harvey's surprise, the guy was actually not a bad conversational partner. He was on his third beer and really picking up steam making his case for the Yankees, when the first notes of the Spinners' _The Rubberband Man_ started to play from his pocket. He excused himself and dug up the phone while he walked to the entrance of the bar.

"Is this about Nichols?" he asked without introduction, knowing who was calling him. He put his free hand in his pocket.

"No, it's not about Nichols," the woman on the other end answered without hesitation. "Why, Harvey? _Please_ don't tell me the meeting didn't go well. We need that man – and his very successful company, I might add - aboard as soon as possible. He's worth a _lot_ of money."

"Yeah, about that-" Harvey started hesitatingly, knowing his tone would alarm her. He liked to keep his boss on edge now and then. Having drunk a few heavy beers did help with that as well, of course.

"_Harvey_," Jessica interjected sharply. Ooh, the serious bossy tone. She obviously wasn't in the mood for games right now. Harvey raised his hand to the door he was facing in self-defense.

"Don't worry Jessica, it went just _fine_. We met up, had dinner, talked, he drank too much, we talked some more, I – or actually _you_ – paid for the whole thing, I walked him to his car… It looked like I was one step away from bedding the guy. Fat chance though, since A) I'm not gay and B) he is just mind-numbingly _boring_. I almost fell asleep three times during the first course _alone_. He just keeps rattling on and on… Anyway - there was no way I could get lure him in just yet. When it comes to the financial details, Louis should really get involved."

Jessica sighed. "I know, I know - I told Louis it was not your cup of tea, but he refused to ask Kevin or Harry. You know, I still don't get why he keeps coming back to you. There's plenty of other decent attorneys in the firm to turn to. Attorneys that are a lot more _likeable_ than you. And with a lot less history between them."

Harvey rolled his eyes at the door, then decided to let the 'likeable' comment go. For now.

"You know Louis - can't live with me, can't live without me," he replied instead with a smirk, wanting to cut to the chase. The bachelor party behind him was getting more rowdy by the minute. "So, what's this about then?"

"Well, speaking about Louis… He is having some trouble with the merger over in Chicago. And in this case he obviously decided he could live _without_ you, because he called Peterson to discuss it. Lucky for us, Peterson in turn called me and now I want _you_ to call Louis."

Harvey could hear her tapping on her keyboard in the background. She was still at the office. If he worked hundred hours a week, _she_ probably worked two hundred. That woman was a machine. But - despite what he led most people to believe – Harveywas not.

"Jessica, don't make me go over there," he groaned. "You know I hate traveling this time of year. I'm sure Louis and Peterson'll be just fine together. Let them handle this. I can't be the knight in shining armor coming to rescue Louis´s ass every time he gets into trouble."

"I didn't say Louis was in trouble," Jessica interjected icily. "I said there was trouble with the _merger_. The merger I assigned to the both of you to work on. Together. So it's as much your responsibility as it is Louis's." Harvey rolled his eyes again. He knew that tone; she wouldn't budge.

Behind him, a few of the guys had started singing Survivor's _Eye of the Tiger_ at the top of their lungs, complete with the intro instrumentals. Duh, duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-DUHHH… They were off key and obviously already very intoxicated. Much to Harvey's horror, the rest then joined in with a horrible rendition of Gloria Gaynor's _I Will Survive_.

"What's that noise, Harvey?" Jessica asked sharply with just a hint of concern in her voice. "Don't tell me you're in some sleazy karaoke bar. Or in a gay bar… Are you in a gay bar, Harvey? Or wait - if it's a strip club, I _don't_ wanna know." She definitely sounded irritated now.

Harvey sighed and ran a quick hand through his hair. He wasn't about to step outside into the cold, but he couldn't stand this chaos either. Time to finish up and get out of there.

"Okay, you know what? I'll come by the office, go through the files again, call Louis and see what I can do from here. If he's _really_ knee deep into trouble, I'll get on my white unicorn, fly over to Chicago and save our fair princess," Harvey replied, ignoring the woman's questions. "I'll see you in ten minutes." And with those words, he hung up.

He absentmindedly stared outside through the shaded windows for a minute. At his first visit he'd thought they'd been grubby, but it actually appeared to be an effect created on purpose within the glass itself. The dingy look was probably created on purpose. Hmmm. Beyond the windows, he noticed how a fine drizzle had started to fall. Great. Another cold and wet New York all-nighter at the office.

He turned and walked back to Chuckie, explaining he had work to do. He carefully placed his hand into the giant muscular bank screw with the promise to finish the discussion about Yankees versus Red Sox on another occasion.

On his way out, he noticed from the corner of his eye that Ana was gone. She had been replaced by a much younger and bustier blonde who was openly flirting with the much older, grey-haired and _very_ drunk bachelor. Ryan the owner was ogling her from behind. Harvey shook his head in amusement, saluted the man with a knowing wink and went out into the cold.

As he rounded the corner and started a brisk walk onto the parking lot where Ray was still loyally waiting for him in the car, he noticed some movement next to the dumpster. Ray, in the meantime, had spotted him and had started the car.

A moment later, a familiar black motorcycle silently started to crawl up to him across the lot. The woman on it was dressed in the same black leather jacket she'd worn last time. She expertly maneuvered the vehicle forward until it was sliding in place next to him. Then she drew the opaque black visor of the helmet up.

Harvey signaled Ray to wait another minute and looked down at his watch. Eleven-thirty.

"Off early today, Mrs. Lee?" he asked, cocking his head to look her in the eyes.

"Yeah, a couple of friends are throwing me a party at the club," she answered with a wide smile as she zipped up the jacket a little further. She'd obviously moved on from his prying questions earlier that night.

"Hmmm. I didn't know there was cause for a celebration," Harvey answered, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Isn't that what people do when they age? Usually around the one year mark?" she replied, adjusting her collar. "Or don't you have time for celebrating your birthday, Mr. Specter? Maybe you're the type of man who doesn't celebrate his birthday anymore after thirty? Trying desperately to remain young forever?"

Although it was dark and raining, Harvey could see how she tried to hide her smile and keep a straight face. The dimples in her cheeks gave her away, though. Charming.

"Are you kidding me? I _love_ receiving presents," Harvey laughed, spreading his arms. "In fact, I celebrate my birthday at least two times a year."

Once out of obligation in the city while receiving stacks and stacks of things he didn't need. Once with a shot of fine whiskey at his father's grave back home, he added silently. But she didn't need to know that.

"Anyway, I would _love_ to come and celebrate with you, but unfortunately I have urgent matters at the office," he continued smoothly. "Next time I'll buy you a drink, shake your hand and maybe give you a peck on the cheek, hmmm?"

He could just make out her smile and the twinkles in her eyes inside her dark helmet. She then efficiently started to maneuver the bike towards the main road. Harvey remained put, raising his voice a little.

"Unless your husband would disapprove of that, of course," he added half joking, half seriously.

He immediately scolded himself. What are you doing? She's _taken_. Stay out of it. Think of _mother_.

Oddly though, she replied over her shoulder, "Well, Mr. Specter, from a man of your stature I would at _least_ expect a decent present. Or would that drink you'd be buying me be a bottle of twenty-nine year old Ardbeg, perhaps?"

For a moment, he just looked at the back of her leather jacket in silence. Then the odd feeling he'd been having all week, the feeling that something didn't add up, suddenly disappeared. _Just because a girl doesn't wear a ring, doesn't mean she's not married._

"You're not married at all - are you, _Miss_ Lee," he said matter-of-factly, voice still raised. He put his hands in his pockets.

"Never said I was," the girl answered in an amused tone as she shut the visor with a snap. She started the bike and exited the lot with one hand raised up to him in salute. He raised his hand in return, although she couldn't possibly see it.

Standing there in the dark, with the rain slowly ruining his grey woolen suit, he smiled a true patented, winning Harvey-smile. Game on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry guys... In a matter of days I'll be admitted to hospital for a few months and I've been very busy with the preparations for that. But here's another update! It took me quite some time and words to work towards the goal (and end) of this chapter, but I hope it creates some great expectations. I very much hope to be able to update the story from the hospital soon!**

* * *

As soon as Harvey had taken another close look at the Benson files, consulted with Jessica and subsequently called Louis, it had been inevitable. He needed to go to Chicago. Though of course he'd made Louis believe it was his fault that he couldn't solve his own problems, Harvey knew it was just not within the junior partner's capacity to solve this one alone. There had been good reasons why Jessica had assigned this merger to the both of them - and now she expected Harvey to keep up his end of the deal.

_A deal he hadn't wanted to make in the first place_, he'd added huffily in his mind. Jessica definitely owed him one after this.

After he'd hung up with a very grumpy Louis, it had taken him only a minute to realize all this. But just to make sure Jessica didn't think he'd give in so easily, he'd waited for another hour, making it look as if he was still buried in paper work whenever Jessica walked by and threw him one of her infamous death glares. Finally, he'd strolled over and nonchalantly draped his body against her door frame. He had sighed, and sighed some more, and rolled his eyes dramatically before conceding that –_yes_, the fair hairy princess needed saving and -_yes_, he would go to Chicago and -_yes_, that meant that he needed three business class tickets so he could sit comfortably by himself in the middle seat. He knew damn well he was being overdramatic and self-indulgent - but Harvey Specter didn't let himself be sent off without making some proper demands first.

After quickly sorting out the details with Jessica – of course without a single compromise from his end – he'd finally left the office for his penthouse to pack up some clothes and essential supplies. Of course his laptop and a stack of various folders were also mandatory. Just because he would be in Chicago didn't mean the world stopped turning in New York.

And now here he was, three days later, returning from the Windy City that had once again lived up to its name in all aspects. It had been _very_ cold, _very_ windy and _very_ uncomfortable. Louis had made it abundantly clear that he did not want Harvey there, and of course _Harvey_ also didn't want Harvey there. Hell, it had seemed as if _no one_ in Chicago had wanted to be there, except for Mr. Matthew Benson Sr. and his two (even more senior) attorneys. Not to mention the fact that Harvey's hotel room had looked out on a shiny new billboard for the White Sox, which had irritated him so much he had decided to book a smaller room at a lower floor just to change the view.

The only good thing coming out of all of this is that the merger was finally settled. And of course there had been the very pleasant dream about Ana he'd had during the second night. It had involved champagne, a large jacuzzi, a chilly New York night on a rooftop and some _very_ naked lady parts underneath a black leather motor jacket.

But then to top off his general misery, the return flight had been filled with snoring business men, clumsy stewards, heavy turbulence and a strange and indefinable smell that had almost driven Harvey insane. His head ached. His back ached. He reminded himself once more that he _really_ hated travelling and vowed to make Jessica share his pain.

Yep. The unflappable Harvey Specter had definitely reached his limit.

As soon as the plane touched down he unbuckled his seat belt, snatched his trolley from the overhead compartment and briskly made his way to the nearest exit. He couldn't even be bothered to butter up the senior purser, a very attractive redheaded thirty something who had been trying to catch his eye every time she'd paraded past his seat. He simply shrugged and smiled a very practiced and certified dazzling Harvey Specter smile at her, as she gently tried to urge him back to his seat. He didn't budge an inch. She giggled and subtly handed him a note with her number on it. He put it in his inner pocket without even so much as glancing at it. He wasn't in the mood for it. Not now.

The only thing he wanted right now was to go home, have a hot shower, change into his linen pants and a simple polo shirt and sink into the couch with a good scotch and some melancholic Bon Iver playing in the background. And then visit the Big Apple Inn on Friday to get a beer and the girl.

The cold breeze flowing through the opened exit door brought him back to his senses. Luckily, since he hadn't brought anything beyond the trolley Harvey moved through the airport fast. He tried to make his way to the exit as quick as possible while calling Ray to confirm his pickup.

Much to his frustration though, two bulky women herding a flock of children in various ages were blocking his path about halfway through. The kids were running in all directions while blatantly ignoring their minders' shrill warnings. They seemed to be everywhere, screaming and yelling across the hall.

Harvey frowned and grunted as he brought a hand to his forehead. His headache started to feel much like migraine. He needed to get _out_. Skip the scotch and Bon Iver – he would head straight to the office to rant at Jessica. And then maybe he would kill her. Or take a Percocet.

But then, just as he thought he saw an escape route in between the masses of screaming toddlers and teenagers, disaster struck yet again. A loud crunching noise suddenly sounded from below his feet. It made Harvey stop dead in his tracks, edgily lifting his right foot as if he had just stepped into a dog turd.

There, lying on the pale concrete, were the remains of what must have been some kind of girl's toy. At the moment though, all that remained were some silver and purple glittery pieces scattered across the floor.

A small girl in a pink fluffy dress standing opposite him stared at his feet in horror. Her hands were clasped together, a bashful look on her face. Then, much to _Harvey's_ horror, her lips slowly started to tremble, followed by a few small sobs that grew louder and louder until it culminated into a very loud wail.

"Samantha, honey, what's going on-" a woman's voice started to say, coming from his right. As Harvey looked up, he saw that one of the two women who had been blocking his way was fast approaching. Soon, her huge frame and a sweaty odor filled up every inch of his personal space. He shivered unintentionally.

"H-he brohoke my _princess ring_!" the girl sobbed inconsolably, pointing in turn at the floor and at Harvey.

"Look, ma'am," Harvey started with a sigh as he took a subtle step back and raised his hands. "I'm very sorry for all this. I was in a hurry-"

"_Ma'am_? You, _sir_, need to shut your mouth!" the woman snapped at him as she kneeled next to the girl and started to dry the infant's cheeks with the hem of her shirt. Harvey pursed his lips and squinted at the woman. He could _not_ handle this right now. He counted ten painful thuds in his head before he continued.

"My apologies, Mrs…" he said smoothly as he pulled out his checkbook. The woman didn't reply, muttering soothing words at the girl in pink. Her wailing had died down to a soft bawl. Harvey cleared his throat.

"Alright then," he sighed loudly, filling out the check with an amount that should cover the costs of about fifty princess rings. "Here's something that should about cover this… unfortunate accident. Again, I'm very sorry."

As he reached out the check for the woman to take, her head shot up at him. The speed with which she got up from her knees startled Harvey.

"Sir, please keep your _checks_ and your _charity_ and your – your _fancy talk_ to yourself," the woman said through clenched teeth as she grabbed the girl's hand. "We don't need no help from pretentious suits like you." She made a move to turn around and leave when the girl softly pulled at her hand.

"Mom," the girl sobbed quietly, "I want my _princess ring_. I w-want it back."

The woman hesitated for a moment, throwing a doubtful look at Harvey's hand putting the check away. She obviously didn't want to accept any of his money.

"Look, honey…" she sighed. "Fine. You know what? Why don't we take this _fine_ gentleman to that shop over there and let him buy you a new ring. Okay?" The girl rubbed her eyes and nodded shyly.

"Monicaaa!" the woman shouted over to the other woman who was waiting some distance away, desperately trying to keep the rest of the kids together. "Sam's ring is has been broken by this… _figure_ over here. We're getting her a new one. Be back in a minute."

The woman nodded absently as she tried to collect all children while simultaneously trying to find something in her purse.

After a few minutes, Harvey found himself impatiently waiting at the counter of an airport toy shop. The girl was rummaging through a large bowl containing giant plastic rings in the most hideous color combinations. Every time it looked like she had found what she was looking for, she tried on the ring - only to throw it back in the bowl and start the selection process all over again. Her mother had taken a step aside to look at some computer games.

Harvey felt very uncomfortable, especially when the shop assistant asked him if he could maybe make his daughter hurry up a bit since there were other kids who wanted a ring as well. He firmly denied his presumed fatherhood. On top of that, his headache was at its worst now because of the simultaneous sounds of wailing fire trucks and singing teddy-bears.

Finally, he just scooped up a handful of rings and smacked them onto the counter. The girl was so dumfounded that she didn't even protest. After paying a whopping 14 dollars, he handed the bouncing girl a plastic bag with the rings and signaled the mother that they were done. She in turn protested weakly when she saw the bag with at least ten different rings in it, but thankfully chose to leave it at that when she noticed the exuberant look on her daughter's face.

Just as Harvey turned around with a sigh to finally, _finally_ go home, the girl tugged on his pants.

"Thank you mister," she said with a small voice before grabbing her mother's hand and skipping away. He paused for a moment, then dialed Ray's number again.

As he sank into his much missed couch at home half an hour later, he smiled to himself as he turned a sparkly blue plastic ring round and round in his hand.


End file.
